Too Much Deadpool AKA The Deadpool League
by dedpule
Summary: Lots of Deadpool- almost too much! But not too much. Because that would be impossible.
1. Nemesis

**Disclaimer:I do not own marvel or any of its characters.**

* * *

Deadpool peered around a delivery truck, searching the street.

_There_, he thought, narrowing his eyes at a plain, white-washed house. The street was nearly deserted, with only some punk skateboarding over a home-made ramp.

A cool night breeze wafted by Deadpool as he darted across the street and tried the handle of the house he'd been watched. He was lucky; it was unlocked. He turned the handle, with his left hand while he drew a gun with his right. He hesitated one last second, then threw the door open.

Nothing happened. No one shot at him or screamed. Instead, he looked in at a tidy and sparse living room, its main feature being a well-worn leather couch along one wall. It all seemed normal, except no body was home.

_Where is she? They told me she'd be here! _ He walked slowly inside, looking out for traps. A movement startled him- he'd left the front door open, and it had caught a breeze. He reached the middle of the small living room and stopped. Something didn't feel right. There was the miniscule kitchen of to the right, and a narrow staircase leading up on the left.

"This is creepy and annoying," Deadpool muttered to himself. "SHIELD doesn't normally give false information.

And they didn't. In the short time Deadpool had worked for them, or rather, with them, they hadn't had such an awful mess up that they'd given him the wrong location for a target.

"What do you want?" The voice behind him sounded annoyed - even irritated. He spun around.

There, in the doorway, was woman of medium height, clad in a red and black costume very similar to his own. The only major difference was a cape- she even had a sword. She had drawn the sword, but it rested at her side.

"Um, SHIELD sent me here to arrest you. But since they sent _me_ they probably want you dead," Deadpool said apologetically.

"I can't imagine why," she muttered. "Well, why haven't you killed me yet?"

"I don't know…cause I like your taste in costumes? Who are you, anyway?"

"Nemesis."

"Whoa, no-way! I've heard about you- I've just never seen your costume before."

"Well, you may have heard of Nemesis, but I'm not the original one."

Deadpool stared. _Finally, someone like me!_ "Me too! Are you an imitator, daughter, or clone?"

"Daughter, you?"

"I'm a clone. Wow, I wish I didn't have to kill you."

"You said that they _probably_ wanted me dead, so you don't know for sure, right? Anyways, did they give you a deadline?" Deadpool shook his head. "Then you don't have to kill me or turn me in yet."

"Awesome! By the way, you don't seem disturbed about the fact I'm supposed to kill you. Is this a trap?"

"No, I just know a lot of people who've tried to kill me. You get used to it after awhile."

"So we should, like, go somewhere and talk. Do you know the Moonrise Bar?"

"Heard of it once or twice, but I don't drink."

"It's not a drinking bar, really. It's for super heroes and villains. It's not far- maybe a five minute walk. What do ya say?"

She looked at him for along moment, then turned to the door. "Fine."


	2. The Moonrise Bar

Deadpool opened the western themed entrance doors, and strolled in to a large, crowded room. Costumed and non-costumed people sat at booths, tables, and on stools. "Oh, goody. Abby's working today."

"Who's Abby?" Nemesis followed him, looking curiously around.

"One of the bartenders. She does a lot more than bartending, though. She's also a waitress, a cook, and a server." Deadpool slid onto a seat at the bar. On his right, Nemesis followed suit. "Hey Abby!" Deadpool yelled towards a small brunette refilling the glass of some heroine (Misty Knight?).

Abby turned and smiled. "Hey Deadpool. What'll it be? The usual, I assume."

"Yeah, duh. Nemesis, you want something?"

Nemesis considered this. "I'll have an orange Crush."

Abby quickly filled two glasses, one with orange Crush, the other with a root beer float. She grabbed another girl working the bar, told her something, then brought the two drinks over.

"Deadpool, how are you? Your chimichangas will be right up. And I don't believe we've met," Abby said, turning to Nemesis.

"Oh, that's Nemesis. Anyways, I bet you can't guess which Deadpool I am," he challenged.

Abby smiled. "Number four, Wade Jr."

"Argh, how did you know?"

Abby just shook her head. "You want anything else?"

"Nah." Abby turned and left, to help a new customer who had come in, Wolverine. Wolverine placed his order, then sauntered over to where Deadpool was sitting.

"What are you doing here, bub? I thought you were working?" he growled, eyeing Deadpool suspiciously. "I know it's you, Chip, so don't try to deny it."

"I am working," Deadpool replied in an injured tone. He gestured to Nemesis. "She's the one I'm supposed to kill, I'm just having a drink with her first."

Wolverine glared at Nemesis, then turned back to Deadpool. "You're one weird kid, bub." He walked away, shaking his head.

"Chip?" Nemesis asked.

"Well, yeah. Like I said, I'm a clone, so they have to distinguish me somehow. And the confusion doesn't stop there. There's also a trainee and a son of the original Deadpool. And an imitator. "

Abby came over and place a pile of chimichangas in front of Deadpool. He dug in.

"Sounds complicated. How do you distinguish each other?"

"Well, there is the original Deadpool, or Deadpool the First. He wants us to call him Deadpool the Great, yeah right. We mostly call him Block, or Pops, or Senior.

"Then there's Pop's trainee, Chase. Chase's code name is actually Redeye, but we call him Deadpool the Good, as in goody two shoes.

"Next there is Brandon or Deadpool Jr. Brandon is Pop's son. We just call him Z usually, because he's got a Z carved into his face.

"Next there's me, Wade Jr., Deadpool the Fourth, the clone. Mostly I'm just called Chip.

And then there's some random guy who thinks he's Deadpool, or at least _a _Deadpool. He's Deadpool the Fifth, known as Five or Pretty Boy, cause he's the only one without a scarred face. "

"So you're Chip, huh? Chip off the old block?" Nemesis smiled.

"Yeah, guess so. How do you and your mom differentiate between yourselves?"

"Well, it helps that my mom's dead." Nemesis swirled the ice in the bottom of her glass with her straw.

"That sucks. You want me to kill you now?"

"Well, I was thinking, why does SHIELD want to kill me? And they didn't tell you to kill me, so would you mind taking me to them so I can ask?"

Deadpool mulled it over. "Fine, but can you pretend to be dead? And buy me some more chimichangas?"


	3. Furious

The door opened, And Fury appeared. His expression quickly became angry when he say Deadpool there, with Nemesis, apparently dead, slung over his shoulder.

"Damn it, Wilson! How many times do I have to tell you that I don't want your dead bodies!"

Nemesis slid down off Deadpool's shoulder. "And what if they're not dead?"

Fury glared at her and turned to Deadpool. "Inside my office. Now." They stepped inside. "You didn't kill her?"

Deadpool shrugged. 'You didn't say you wanted me to."

"I figured I could count on you."

"Uh, I hate to interrupt you guys, but I just want to know why SHIELD wants me dead." Both Fury and Deadpool turned to Nemesis.

"Because you murdered fifteen agents," growled Fury.

"I did not!"

"October 17, a building in Chicago."

"That wasn't me!"

"All fifteen found with slash marks, backup team saw you running from the scene!" Fury was pacing behind his desk.

"It wasn't me- it was Baron Zemo!" Fury stopped pacing and looked at her. "He was there, he killed those agents, I saw him and chased him. I didn't get him, unfortunately, though."

Fury mulled this over. "You have any proof?"

"Well…no."

Deadpool sat up suddenly. "Why don't you just ask Zemo were he was that night?"

Fury shrugged. "We could, but we'd have to find him and there's no guarantee he'd tell the truth." Fury looked down at his desk, thinking. "Alright, Chip. Don't kill Nemesis, but I want you to be watching her constantly. Don't let her out of your sight for a minute until I can sort this mess out. Dismissed."

Deadpool and Nemesis got up and left the room.


	4. Number Two

"Where are you going?" ask Nemesis, following behind Deadpool AKA Chip as he walked through a maze of hallways on the helicarrier.

"I haveta see an old friend," Chip replied. He turned right, then left, then right again, and stopped outside a plain SHIELD agent's quarters. The name plate read, 'Hendrix, Chase'. Chip knocked twice.

"Yes? Come in," called a voice. Chip opened the door and both he and Nemesis walked in.

Inside was a small room, neat and tidy, with a bed against one wall, a closet against another, and a desk along the third. A man in a SHIELD uniform sat at the desk, typing on a laptop. The man finished his sentence, then closed the laptop.

"Oh, hello Chip," he said, turning around. His left eye had two scars crossing over it, forming an 'x'.

"Seriously!" Chip complained. "How'd you know it was me?"

"Because Block, Junior and Five all have voices in their heads, and say random, spasmodic statements."

"Oh. Anyways, Redeye, this is Nemesis. Nemesis, Redeye, or Deadpool the Good."

"I'm the only one that doesn't wear the Deadpool costume," said Redeye. "But did you come just to introduce me?" he asked Chip.

"Nah. Fury wants me to follow her around, like twenty-four seven, cause he doesn't know if she's guilty for killing fifteen agents or not. Nemesis claims Zemo did it. I wanted to ask if you knew a way to find out."

"The Chicago killing, right? Let me see." Redeye sat down at his desk, and opened his laptop back up.

While they were waiting for him, Chip lay down on the perfectly made bed, rumpling the sheets. Nemesis leaned against the wall and pulled off her mask. Short, dark hair fell out, tangled and messy from being in the mask. Her face was a little pale, but had a slight natural darkness. Her eyes were black.

"Hey, uh, aren't super heroes-slash-villains not supposed to remove their masks?" asked Chip, sitting upright.

"Only if they've got an identity worth hiding," replied Nemesis. "But I never use my 'normal' identity. My name's Andromeda, by the way. Andromeda St. Ives."

"Can I call you Andy?"

"No."

"I think I've got something," Redeye announced, turning around. Chip and Nemesis hurried over. "See, I've hacked into the city surveillance cameras, which is actually very easy, by the way. See here," he said playing a video. "There is some figure running away, can't tell who it is, and then there's another figure, Nemesis, running after. It doesn't prove much, but it's a good start."

"Do you think it'll get me out of babysitting Andy here?" asked Chip.

"Do NOT call me Andy," growled Nemesis.

"Well, it might get you out of it, but unlikely," said Redeye, ignoring Nemesis. "A send the video to Fury. I can keep looking for more evidence though, if you want."

"Yeah, thanks, pal. Come on, Andy." Deadpool left.

Nemesis growled, but followed.


	5. A Guessing Game

"Hey, Chip!" a voice called out behind them. Chip and Nemesis turned. There stood anotherChip, or, more precisely, another Deadpool.

"Hey, Pops!" said Chip, for once not annoyed that someone knew which Deadpool he was. "What's up?"

"Now that your here, I called a Deadpool meeting in Meeting Room 5."

"Okay, now?"

"Yeah."

"Can I bring Andy here? Fury said I'm supposed to watch her twenty-four/seven."

"Fine." Deadpool AKA Pops turned and started walking down a corridor. Chip and 'Andy' followed.

"If you keep calling me Andy," hissed Nemesis. "I will get a sorcerer friend of mine to curse you."

"Hah! That doesn't scare me."

"I'll tell her to curse you so that every chimichanga you eat is disgusting," Nemesis threatened.

"Now that's just cruel. How could you deny Deadpool, _any_ Deadpool, a chimichanga?"

"Did someone say chimichanga?" asked Pops. "Fine but you're buying."

"Let's make Andy buy."

"Chip, I- ugh. Whatever."

"Andy snorts in disgust."

"Did you just narrate me?"

"Well, someone (and I won't say who) wasn't doing their job- hint, hint- so I thought I'd cover for her."

"Who are you talking about?!"

"Hint: She has the same name but is a really bad speller."

"I have no idea who you are talking about."

"She lives behind the fourth wall."

"That sounds kind of scary, but at the same time, not."

Pops turned a last corner and opened a door. A plaque on the wall read Meeting Room 5. "Come in, make yourselves at home, but don't steal the stationary- Fury got really angry last time I did that."

The three of them entered the room and sat down at a long, sleek table. A projector lay on the table.

"As angry as the time Junior set off fifteen soda fountains next to the helicarrier controls?"

"Oh, yeah. That was funny. No he wasn't that angry." "I used blue balloons, not red."

"Oh, you mean the time when you planted cherry bombs in Fury's birthday balloons?"

"'Sup guys." _Another_ Deadpool had walked in, this one slightly shorter and stockier. "Did we get a new Deadpool? I knew we needed a girl one."

"Hey Pretty Boy. Nah, this is Andy- ouch, don't kick me- but she prefers to be called Nemesis."

"Hey. I'm Deadpool #5. And you should seriously think about becoming number 6. We could still call you Nemesis."

"Thanks, I'll think about it- no."

The door opened again, and in walked Redeye, and another Deadpool. Chip jumped to his feet.

"Junior- you owe me a cool million! Pay up or I'll shoot!" Chip had a hand pistol aimed at his look-alike's head.

"Wait, I paid you back by covering for you when SHIELD wanted you to go to Africa to shoot some guy and you had a date and couldn't go!"

"Oh, yeah." Chip re-holstered his gun. "I remember now."

Pops swiveled in his chair, looking delighted (with the swiveling chair). "Okaaay, now that everybody's here, lets talk turkey." Immediately all four (five?) other Deadpools began talking.

#2 Redeye: What's this meeting about?

#3 Junior: Gobble gobble gobble.

#4 Chip: What's turkey for 'We Rule'?

#5 Pretty Boy: I want a chimichanga.

#1 Pops: Wasn't Junior supposed to bring something to eat?

#3 Junior: Gobble gobble- that's turkey for I'm broke.

#6? Nemesis: Are we off topic already?

#4 Chip: Has everybody met Andy?

#2 Redeye: How can you be broke, Fury paid you yesterday.

#1 Pops: I here by declare someone must bring snacks to every meeting

#6? Nemesis: I feel myself going crazy. When in Rome…

#5 Pretty Boy: Hey, Pops, who died and made you king?

#3 Junior: I used the money to pay the rent- six month's worth- with interest!

#4 Chip: Did you know Taco Bell has a new three-bean burrito with steak?

#1 Pops: I am the original, the best! I'm king cause knock-offs can't compare!

#2 Redeye: Oh, Andy, Fury says he still needs more proof you're not bad

#4 Chip: You mean I still have to baby-sit? Crap

#5 Pretty Boy: I don't like burritos. Now if it was a chimichanga-

#6? Nemesis: What is it with you people and chimichangas?!

#3 Junior: Why doesn't you-know-who put some order into this dialogue?

#5 Pretty Boy: Chimichangas are the best thing EVER! After me, of course.

#1 Pops: Has anybody seen the commercial for that Flex-seal stuff? I got some and it is totally awesome!

#6? Nemesis: Why am I here, anyways? Is this some form of torture Fury's imposed upon me?

#2 Redeye: Why are we here?

#4 Chip: i dont know :) must be 4 crzies

#1 Pops: We're here to discuss if we should tell the everyone how many Deadpools there actually are

#3 Junior: Chip, this is a discussion- not a chat. You can't use emoticons or stuff like that!

#5 Pretty Boy: Do we even know how many Deadpools there are? What if we don't know about all of them?

#4 Chip: i can talk how i want 2 :( & u cant stop me & the writr allows me 2 cos i rule & u sux so there i hate u :( & i 3 chmichngas

#6? Nemesis: I really have no idea what you just said. How is it even possible for you to _talk_ like that?

#4 Chip: i don't no, how do u talk w/ lots questshun marks

#2 Redeye: I think there are officially four Deadpools; I don't wear the costume so I don't count. If Nemesis wants to be a Deadpool, she may or may not be officially recognized as one

#6? Nemesis: You guys are freaking me out, I don't think I want to be associated with you all.

#1 Pops: If we don't tell anyone how many of us there are, it might be better

#4 Chip: aww, andy u r /3 we r not that bad give me $$$$$$$

#3 Junior: I vote we go out for chimichangas at that new Mexican place- chimichangas are Mexican, right?

#5 Pretty Boy: Lets keep the actual number of Deadpools a secret. Anyways, how do we know there aren't more of us?

#6? Nemesis: My mind is being blown by how many conversations are going on and how often you all switch topic.

#2 Redeye: I have an actual job you know, so if we can wrap this up-

#3 Junior: Like a burrito?

#4 Chip: i must update my twitr account & facebook 2

#1 Pops: So Andy's buying, right?

#5 Pretty Boy: Cause, there might be some Deadpool that we heard about, but just thought it was one of us, right?

#2 Redeye: Alright, I really have to go, bring me back some chimichangas

*Redeye exits*

#3 Junior: Woah, did you see that? You-know-who thinks this really IS a chat room

#4 Chip: i hav 90 mesages on my fone thats a nu record rite?

#1 Pops: Alright, I think we've talked about this subject – what was the subject again? – long enough. Lets go.

#5 Pretty Boy: Chimichangas?

#3 Junior: DUH!

#4 Chip: fin but i am broke -$$$$- so andy buys

#6? Nemesis: Fine, anything to get out of this chat room format!


	6. Mercenary

An alarm rang out.

"Lunchtiiiime!" c yelled.

"No, that's the 'something-is-really-wrong-so-get-your-buts-moving -and-fix-the-problem' alarm," Redeye said, running by them.

"Which we can completely ignore because we don't work for SHIELD," reasoned Pops.

Junior: "Unless they pay us a whole lot of cash."

Pops: Well, maybe then, but its got to be a lot, like twenty million up front."

An announcement came out of the speakers, "Armed hostile on the bridge. All agents on high alert. Code Red. Code Red."

Pretty Boy: "All right! Red is my color!"

Chip: "Who wants to go watch?"

Junior: "Ooh! Me! Me!"

Nemesis: "You guys are such losers."

The five of them ran off, in the direction of the bridge, catching up with Redeye along the way.

Marsha stood with a gun in her hand. At the other end was Nick Fury. She almost could have laughed. Who knew she'd end up here?

"I don't know what you want, and I don't much care. But you should know you won't get away with it." She could almost see Fury's brain working, figuring out how to get away. That was bad. Knowing him, he'd soon retake control of the situation.

"I don't want anything. My _employer_ wishes to speak with you."

"And who's your employer?" Fury was stalling. _Crap_. She had to get out of here. She began walking backwards, toward the hangar, dragging Fury along and keeping the gun pressed to his head.

"I don't know who my employer is, duh. He doesn't want me to rat him out if I get caught. And, to tell the truth, I don't much care," she said mimicking Fury. She had to get out of here now. The other agents were getting restless. From a doorway on her right came a group of identically red-and-black costumed people.

_Crap, please not superheroes! This is getting worse and worse!_

Pops ran through the door way and stopped dead. Chip and Junior ran into him. Pretty Boy tripped and went sprawling. Redeye narrowly avoided stepping on him. Nemesis gracefully avoided all of them and snorted.

"They thought _three_ stooges were bad enough…"

Pops: "She got Fury!"

Chip: "Ooh, goody!"

Pretty Boy: Look- its another Deadpool! I knew it!"

And it seemed so. The girl holding Fury by the arm wore red spandex, with black gloves and knee-high boots, a red headband holding back her black hair, and had a belt with multiple black pouches attached.

Redeye: "Who cares who she looks like- we've got to help Fury!"

Chip: "Nah-ah. He gets kidnapped and I don't have to baby-sit anymore"

Nemesis: "If she's a Deadpool, I know what to do."

Before any of the Deadpools could react, Nemesis ran quickly over to where Fury was.

The girl with the gun to Fury's head saw her coming. "Come any closer and he gets it!"

"Look," began Nemesis. "Just here me out, okay? Now I know you want to kidnap Fury and all, but how about we make a deal that's mutually beneficial?"

"I'm listening," the girl said. Fury looked worriedly at Nemesis, no doubt thinking she had some crazy Deadpool plan going on. Which she did.

"You let Fury go, and you, I, and the Deadpools there," she gestured at them, "will all go out for chimichangas. I'll buy. How's that sound?"

The maybe-Deadpool looked at her appraisingly. Fury looked at her, horrified. Nemesis could tell he was thinking, _This_ is your plan?

"I do like chimichangas…but I'll still need money. I want a million."

Nemesis shrugged. "You'll have to talk to Fury about it."

"I don't know, double-crossing your employer is bad for business."

Chip spoke up impatiently from behind Nemesis. "So you just kidnap him, and we follow and rescue him! You get the employers money, and our chimichangas!"

The girl looked at Fury. "Promise not to arrest me?"

Fury grumbled a bit, then promised.

"All right!" Junior cheered as the girl released Fury. He ran over and hugged her.

"Woah, dude, like, personal space!" The other Deadpools came over.

"Oh, sorry. I like your costume. Want to be a Deadpool?"

"Uh…what's a Deadpool?"

Junior gasped. Pops fainted (or pretended to). Chip and Pretty Boy gaped at her. Redeye and Nemesis rolled their eyes.

Chip recovered first. "You don't know who we are?"  
"Um, no, sorry."

Pops jumped to his feet. "We're only the greatest mercenary and clone and son and trainee and imitator and girl version ever!"

Nemesis: "You know, I kind of resent being known as the 'girl version' of you guys."

Junior: "You know, uh … what's your name?"

The girl smiled slightly. "Mercenary. You can call me Marsha."

Pretty Boy: "You see? Its fate! She must be another Deadpool!"

Marsha: "All right, whatever. I need to take Fury back to my employer now- we can talk about what a Deadpool is afterwards."

Pops: "Not what- who!"


	7. Not Another One

All five Deadpools (Redeye did end up being able to make it) plus Marsha and Nemesis sat at connected booth and table.

(I'm not putting in the kidnap + retrieval scene; it was really boring. Here's the overview: Marsha takes Fury to abandoned house- gets bag full of cash. All Deadpools and Nemesis enter the house, take out the forty-odd guards, and arrest the guy in charge (some lame-brain who hates Fury because Fury beat him at the state high school tennis championships [yes, Fury plays tennis- he actually lost his eye because he was hit in the face with a tennis ball])

Pops: "So, I'm the original Deadpool, and by far the best -"

Chip, Junior, Pretty Boy: "NOT!"

Pops: "I was first so I get to decide. Next was Redeye, and he doesn't wear the costume and isn't completely loco, but he gets to be a Deadpool cause I mentored him."

Redeye: "And I'm only here because Fury wants someone sane to keep tabs on these guys."

Chip: "What?"

Junior: "Traitor!"

Pretty Boy: "Off with his head!"

Pops: "Wait a second- you're not Pretty Boy- you're too short! Who are you?"

Everyone turned to look at Pretty Boy-who-was-not-Pretty Boy.

Pretty Boy-who-was-not-Pretty Boy: "You're right- I'm not Pretty Boy! He's tied up at the abandoned house. I replaced him."

Pops: "Yes, but who are you?"

"I am the you from another dimension! Walter Wilson AKA the Raider!"

Junior: "Do you want to kill us and take over our dimension?"

Raider: "Uh…no?"

Junior: "Okay, then, do you want to join our club?"

Raider: "Sure! By the way, I'm kind of stuck in your reality- mine imploded."

Everyone: "Aww, that's too bad."

Pops: "Anyways, back to our introductions. After Redeye came Junior, my son. Junior actually says what the voice in my head says, and I say what the voice in his head says. So the voice in my head is Junior, and the voice in his is mine.

"After Junior is Chip, the clone. He doesn't hear voices, but is still psycho.

"Then there is Pretty Boy, the random imitator, and he hears two voices in his head, mine and Junior's.

"After Pretty Boy is Nemesis –"

Nemesis: "Hey, leave me out of this. I am starting to like you guys, in a weird sort of way, but I don't have anything in common with you guys. Besides the costume."

Chip: "Aww, come on!"

Nemesis: "I'm serious. I'm not related, I've never worked with you guys before, and I've never called myself Deadpool. If Marsha wants to join she can be you girl version- at least she's a mercenary."

Pops: "Well, Marshie Marshie Marsha? What do you say?"

Marsha: "Sure- if you never call me that again."

Junior: "And Raider, how 'bout you?"

Raider: "Sure."

Pops: "So everybody done eating? Lets go. Here's the bill, Andy."

Nemesis: "What the – ! %$# &%* %#^! How many chimichangas did you guys eat."

All the others looked at each other.

Chip: "RUN!"

* * *

After running like crazy with Nemesis chasing them, the Deadpools finally lost her. They peered out from the racks of clothes in Target.

Junior: "Coast is clear."

They came out and hugged deep sighs of relief, ignoring the strange looks of shoppers.

Pops: "Hey guys. Where's Pretty Boy?"

Once more, they all looked at each other.

Chip: "Oh, no."

* * *

**Please Review! Would like to hear your thoughts. Constructive criticism is appreciated!**


	8. T-23

So, in the last chapter, our anti-heroes (Redeye, Pretty Boy Chip, Marsha, Junior, Raider, Nemesis, and Pops) left Pretty Boy in a warehouse and were joined by Raider AKA Walter Wilson, the Deadpool from another dimension. After Pretty Boy got free from the warehouse, tracked down all of the Deadpools, and wreaked not-so-pretty vengeance on Chip, Junior, Raider, and Pops (whom he judged to be responsible for his abandonment) things were pretty much back to normal.

Then, one day, Chip called Nemesis up on the phone and asked her to meet up with him in the middle of nowhere in the mountains. So Nemesis and Marsha, who happened to be having a girl fun day with Nemesis at the time, borrowed (okay, _stole_) Iron Man's state-of-the-art, twice-the-speed-of-sound, fancy helicopter. They used the thing-a-ma-jig to track Chip's cell phone signal, and set down beside him.

"Hey, guys, sweet ride. Can I have it?" Chip said as soon as they got out.

"No, we need to return it to Tony when we're done," replied Nemesis. She looked around. It was early winter, so there was lots of snow, but here and there a scraggly tree or shrub broke through. The sun glared off the snow, blinding her slightly. After her eyes adjusted, she could see strewn rubble, and a jagged cave entrance.

"Hey," Marsha protested. "I want to keep it. I don't have a moral code that says I can't steal. Heck, I'm a mercenary." She snorted.

"Yes, yes, sooooo funny. We know your alias is Mercenary." Nemesis turned to Chip. "Wassup?"

Chip scratched his neck. "Well, one day Pops disappeared, and didn't come back for like, two weeks, so I tried to see if I could reach him somehow. But his cell was offline- no surprise there- and he didn't respond to my emails either." He frowned. "But that's not really unusual, 'cause he's kind of paranoid and changes his password often and forgets it even more often. But I tweeted him and he didn't tweet back, which is really unusual.

"So I tracked him down using the tracking device in his costume-"

"Whoa, whoa, wait a second," Marsha interrupted. "Why didn't you just do that first?"

"Uh…um…cause I forgot," Chip mumbled.

Nemesis raised an eyebrow. "And what made you remember?"

"I…uh…actually lost my memory for a while, and then I got it back and I remembered!"

Nemesis and Marsha looked at each other and rolled their eyes. "What really happened?" Marsha asked.

"Uh, well, I asked Redeye for help, actually, and he reminded me," mumbled Chip.

Nemesis laughed. "Yes, Redeye is the only one of you that's got any sense- no offense, Marsha, since you're one of them now-"

"None taken, I am rather senseless," replied Marsha.

"- and it figures you'd be embarrassed to admit it. Boys," she ended, shaking her head.

"Hey! I have sense too!" Chip insisted. "Look how much!" He reached into a pouch and pulled out a handful of cents…er-…pennies.

"You've got sense, yes- but a different kind," replied Marsha, holding her nose and leaning away from him theatrically.

Nemesis sighed. "Okay, you two. Back to business." She turned to Chip. "You traced Pops tracker, then, and I assume it lead you here?"

"You assume too much," Chip said in a pompous voice. "No actually, you do. Turns out Pops left suit in a bathroom garbage in Bangkok, Thailand. Weirdo. Anyways, I asked the hotel manager where the crazy guy from room fifteen went after he left, and he didn't know."

"Then do I care?" inquired Marsha.

"Well, I dunno. So then I was kinda stuck, and I had this weird suspicion, kind of like a combo of back tingles, and goosebumps, and a song stuck in your head-"

"GET TO THE POINT!" exploded Nemesis.

"Okay, sheesh. So I went to Wolverine and asked him where the Weapon X lab was…" Chip trailed off, looking in to the distance.

Marsha tapped her foot impatiently. "And?"

Chip snapped back to reality. "Wolvie went kind of psycho when I asked that so I got the hell out of there. So I called, uh, Redeye, and asked him if he knew. And he did. And here we are."

Nemesis frowned thoughtfully. "So this is the Weapon X lab, huh? Lets go inside."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" cried Chip grabbing her. "If that's all I had to do, do ya think I would have called you? There are traps, explosives, and some crazy psycho girl with a machine gun!" His voice rose up hysterically.

Marsha gave him a Look*.(* For those who do not know, a Look is when you tilt your head slightly down and to the side, with one eyebrow raised, looking at whomever just did something to deserve a Look) "Do not," she said, speaking slowly, "tell me that you are afraid of a girl."

"With a machine gun!"

"You have a healing factor!"

"She's creepy! And a girl!"

Marsha shook her head and walked to the cave. "Come on, Chip. We'll protect you from the big, bad, scary girl."

Chip followed, muttering under his breath. Nemesis took the rear.

Inside, everything was destroyed. Tunnels strewn with rubble led in several directions. Marsha started walking along one that led slightly to the left.

"How do you know to go this way?" Chip whispered. Somehow, it just seemed like a whispering moment.

"Voices, also the smell of food, duh."

Now that she mentioned it, Nemesis and Chip could here indistinct voices echoing down the tunnel, and smell a stew simmering. Chip's stomach rumbled. Nemesis punched him in the kidney. He started to turn, but Nemesis pushed him forward.

Gradually, the voices became clearer, the smell stronger, and the light (from a fire, judging by the way it flickered) brighter. Then the tunnel ended, leaving Marsha, Chip, and Nemesis standing at the entrance to the room, looking at a girl stirring a pot of soup over a fire. She wore a black bodysuit with lots of pouches all over. She wore a red armband around her left bicep.

"Yes, I think so…no, arsenic is a poison, not a spice! ... It was your fault, you told me to kill him…"

"Uh, hello?" Marsha said.

The girl jumped and turned, a long knife appearing in her hand. "Who are you?"

"Wait a second," Chip said, ignoring her. "That's Pops' favorite knife! Where is he?"

The girl stopped and narrowed her eyes at them for a long second. Then she shrugged. "Who's Pops?"

"I am," said a voice behind Chip. They all jumped and turned. There stood Pops, perfectly unharmed, looking bored.

"Pops, you're okay!"

"Of course I'm okay, why wouldn't I be?" Pops frowned. And that's when they all realized- he had his mask off. Marsha and Nemesis tactfully decided not to ask him about it. Chip had no such qualms.

"Pops, your mask!" Pops scowled so fiercely that Chip decided to drop it. "Um, well, you disappeared for two weeks! And didn't answer your tweets! So I thought something was wrong and tried to find you."

"Has it really been that long?" Chip nodded really fast. Up-down-up-down-up-down. "Alright, come in. I assume you've met Tade?" Chip shook his head really fast. Left-right-left-right-left-right. "Well every body, meet Tade. Tade, Marsha, Chip, and Andy."

"Andy" rolled her eyes. They moved around the fire and sat down. Tade continued stirring the stew. Marsha spoke up. "So who is Tade? What is she doing her? When did you find her? Where is she from? And why did you leave?" She directed the last question at Pops.

Pops leaned back, his hand running absently over his scarred scalp and face. "Tade is my clone – yes, I know she's a girl. Wolvie has that girl clone, too, though…what's-her-name – X-23, or Laura. Tade is my equivalent or Laura. She's T-23, actually. So I named her Tade, like Wade with a T."

Tade spoke up suddenly. "You know, they actually assign the letter at the beginning of our names randomly? X's luck she got the cool-sounding letter, and the one that coincides with the project name."

"'Our names'?" asked Nemesis. "You mean there's more than you and Laura?"

"Of course! There's a girl Sabretooth – H-23 – and Maverick/Agent Zero – J-23 – and probably others, but I never met them."

"Won't Wolvie be mad when he finds out there's another Sabretooth?" They all laughed.

(Mental Camera zooms out. Shows all of them sitting around a fire, with Tade serving out stew. The end.)

**No, not really. Still a few more chapters to go! Please review. If anyone has any ideas about a Lady Deadpool- let me know! She might make an appearance in one of my chapters.**


	9. Silly side story

**Here's a story just for fun! Junior has a few misadventures. Don't worry, I'll have the next installment in the series soon!**

Deadpool walked down the street peering this way and that. It was hard to see through the pouring rain. Lightning lit the skies while thunder boomed overhead. A figure came out into the street ahead of him. Deadpool stopped and stared. No it couldn't be-

Oops, sorry, wrong Deadpool. That was Raider. Right now, though, we're following Junior as he rides down a sunny country road, dirt flying behind him as he guns his open-top jeep forward. No, he's not being pursued. He's simply driving along, enjoying himself for once. IS THAT SO HARD TO BELIEVE? Yes, I guess it is. Here comes the invisible figure of danger.

Junior drove along in his new, open-air jeep that he stole from the Fantastic Four.

"I wonder what this button does?" he mused aloud, looking at a medium-sized bright purple button. It was the top button in a line of buttons next to the steering wheel. In any case, it looked exciting. So he pushed it.

Nothing happened. Junior frowned, then pushed it again. Still nothing. Jabbed it repeatedly, then smashed his fist against it. Nothing.

"Must be broke. Trust super-geniuses like Reed to not fix things," he muttered. A voice in his head talked back. _Well, you _did_ steal it from the testing lab- it's probably not finished._ "Aw shut up."

Just then, a bagel popped out of a slot he had taken to be a CD-player. It fell into his lap, toasted and buttered.

"Hm, that's weird." _Not as weird as you are._ "Hey, you're weirder!" _We're the same guy, stupid. _Another bagel popped out. And another one. And another one. And another one. They kept spilling out into his lap.

"Ouch-ouch-ouch-ouch!" Junior complained. "That's hot! Ow-ow-ow-ow-owie!" He began trying to get the bagels off his lap, but only succeeded in somewhat juggling. Unfortunately, this required him to stop steering, but he forgot to take his foot of the gas.

At last, Junior managed to shovel the hot, buttery bagels off is lap and jerk the steering wheel around so as to avoid a cow. "Moooove it, you stupid cow!" he yelled. He continued driving as before, albeit being a little more buttery. As he continued along, the next button in line caught his attention.

This button was a brilliant lime green. Junior tried to ignore it, but his eyes kept slipping to it. _Come on, you know you want to do it. Just press it. _"Are you joking? Look what happened last time." _That was only because you kept pressing it._ Junior tried to ignore the voice, but it was right. And the button was so shiny and green. So he pressed it.

Misters came on, spraying him lightly with water. "Oh, yeah. That hits the spot." _See, I told you._ It was hot and dusty out, and the misters felt good. After about five minutes, his face was soaked. He punched the green button again. The misters kept going. He punched it again. This time, he felt a difference. The sprayers got stronger. Okay, Junior thought, maybe you push it, and it gets harder, and if you push it enough it will turn off. And so he pushed it again.

The spray got harder. Now it felt like a shower, or a rainstorm. His suit was getting soaked. He pushed it again. And again and again. Not it was like a fire hose, pinning him to the seat, making it hard for him to move. He pushed it again and again and again again againaginagain…at last, it stopped. And the car was squishy with water, the floor was flooded.

He shook the water out of his eyes to avoid a horse. "Get out of my waaaay!" Junior yelled. And he continued driving as before, albeit a little more wet.

As he drove along Junior's eyes were drawn to the next button, an orange one. "No. Definitely not," he told himself. To his relief, the inner voice stayed quiet. After a little while, he became aware of a dust cloud behind him, catching up. "Aww, crap."

When it got closer, Junior was able to make out the driver. Red mask, black patches over the eyes, monster truck- OMG it was Pretty Boy, out to get him! Junior gulped. What to do, what to do…. His eyes fell on the orange button. He gulped again. He looked over at Pretty Boy. A bullet whizzed past his head Oh crap oh crap oh crap! He closed his eyes and hit the orange button.

It was a good thing he did. There was a sonic BOOM! and the jeep leapt forward, slamming him back in his seat. Dust flew at him and stuck to the wet clothing. At last, he felt the jeep slow down and opened his eyes…Just in time to swerve around a cowboy eating lunch. "Watch it, bozo!" Junior screamed. He continued driving as before, albeit a little muddier. As he drove along, the next button caught his eye.

It was hot pink, his favorite color after red and black and aquamarine. But he gritted his teeth and looked away. _Aww, come on. Push it! _"No, no, NO! I hate buttons! HATE them!" _Like anything bad could happen with a pink button._ Junior considered this. "I do like pink," he said hesitantly, eyes straying to the button in question. _So go on, push it._ Junior bit his lip. Then, he reached out a shaking finger, and pressed the button.

For a long, ominous second, nothing happened. Then everything did.

Before Junior could realize what was happening, his fingers were being filed and polished (well, the gloves were), and his mask was lipsticked, eyeshadowed, mascarad, blushed, and touched up. When the make-up applicators disappeared. Junior released a long, high-pitched scream. Then, he turned his attention to the road, in time to swerve around a house at the edge of a small town.

"Coming through!" he yelled, his voice still rather high-pitched. He continued driving as before, albeit a little more pretty. As he drove, the last button in the line caught his eye.

It was a deep rich blue, and pulled his eyes to it like a magnet. _It's the last button in the line, might as well._ "Oh, no. There is NO way I am going to press that." He tried to focus on driving down the streets, avoiding street lights, garbage cans, and other drivers. _You don't want to leave it unfinished do you? _Junior ignored that. Yet it stayed in his mind, bugging him, until he finally threw up his hands- only to put them back on the wheel again.

"Alright, fine! I'll press it! You happy now?" Pedestrians stared after him. So he pressed the button. His seat began to twitch. "CRAP, WHAT HAVE I DONE?" _Its just an in-seat massage, you idiot. _"Oh." Now that he knew what it was, Junior kind of liked it. He settled back and enjoyed it.

The massager-thing got harder, kneading into his muscles. He sighed. It got even harder. Junior began to feel a little uncomfortable. It got even harder. It hurt now. Junior tried to lean away from it, but the seat belt locked. He tried to unbuckled but now he was shaking so bad he couldn't. "HEEELLLPPP! HHHEEEEEEEELLLP! Help me!"

After another hour of torture (well, it was probably only a minute) it stopper. Just in time for Junior to swerve past Reed Richards. Junior slammed on the brake and jumped out.

"Here!" he screamed, hysterical. "Here, have you demon car back!" He threw the keys at Reed and then ran away very fast.

Reed caught the keys and watched the muddy, make-uped, jittery Junior run off. He raised an eyebrow, and then shrugged. That was Deadpool, any Deadpool, for you.


	10. Cade

Deadpool AKA Pops AKA Wade Wilson walked down the street peering this way and that. (Do you remember this beginning?) It was hard to see through the pouring rain. Lightning lit the skies while thunder boomed overhead. A figure with an umbrella came out into the street ahead of him. Deadpool stopped and stared. No it couldn't be-

"Cade?! Is that you?" The figure stopped and turned. The figure's face was unmarred, but other than that, it looked remarkably Wade's own. "Bro, speak to me!"

"Wait, Wade? Why are you wearing that ridiculous outfit? And where in the world have you been? You were supposed to be home fifty years ago!"

Wade ran up to hag his long lost brother. They hugged briefly, then Cade reiterated his last question. Wade suddenly became sheepish, looking down at his feet.

"Um, well…I was kind of mad at mom, so I, uh…ran away." His voice trailed off.

"Mad? Mad about what? About not being able to move to Wisconsin and set up a dairy farm?" Wade nodded miserably. "Do you have any idea what a lame idea that was? Or how stupid it was to run away for? I haven't seen you in fifty years!"

Cade seemed overwhelmed at this and stood silently shaking his head. Wade alternated from chewing his lip, to scuffing his shoe on the ground.

Finally, Cade seemed to pull himself together. "Well, we have a lot to catch up on, huh? Come to my hotel room and let's talk. Where have you been?"

"Um, here and there, and, well, everywhere. After I left, I had a few misadventures and wound up in Vegas. It kind of went downhill from there. The next few years I lived in Beijing, China, then Pretoria, South Africa, then Minsk, Russia. When I finally made it back to the States, I was in some bad company. But I eventually made it back to our house, but you guys weren't there."

"Yeah, we waited for you to come back, called the cops, everything. As the first year passed, Mom got sadder and sadder, and couldn't bear to be in the house with out you." Here Cade paused and looked sternly at Wade, who shuffled his feet and mumbled something. "So we moved, but asked the people who bought the house to tell you where we moved if we ever showed up."

"When I got there, it was abandoned, so no luck."

"Oh." Cade turned up a sidewalk to a hotel. It wasn't fancy, but it wasn't cheap, either. He walked into the lobby and into pressed the button to the elevator. Beside him, Wade dripped on the carpet, drawing dirty looks from the hotel management. His costume probably didn't help. They may not know who he was (_How could they not? I rule!_), but any freak who dresses weird is scorned.

The elevator dinged open, and they both got on. Cade pushed the third floor button. As the elevator rose, with faint Muzak in the background, both brothers stood awkwardly, looking anywhere but at each other. The elevator dinged open again, and they got out.

"So," said Wade to break the uncomfortable silence. "How's Mom?" This was the wrong thing to say. Cade gave his little brother a hard look.

"She's dead. Died thirty years ago. It's not easy raising two kids, having one go missing and never turn up. Still, she was fifty-five when she went." Wade ducked his head. "Here, this is my room."

They had stopped at room # 315. Cade inserted his room key, and opened the door when the green light flashed. Inside, it was simple. One queen-sized bed, a cramped bathroom, a mini-fridge, a small TV, an AC unit, two chairs, a desk, a wastebasket, a closet, and a small nightstand with a lamp. There were the typical hotel additions, too: a picture of a ranch on the wall, the complementary soaps and whatnot, and the comforter on the bed had a deep, rich design.

Wade followed Cade in and plopped down on a chair.

"Get up! You're soaking! Here, I have some clothes you can borrow." Shaking his head, Cade tossed some jeans and a t-shirt at him. Wad caught them, then began to change. "And don't leave your wet clothes on my floor, either, hang them over the shower curtain.

Wade laughed. "Still the big brother, eh?"

"Always."

Wade gathered up his stuff, then threw it in the bathtub. When he came back out, his mask was still on. Cade looked up.

"Why do you still have that silly mask on?"

Wade hesitated. "After I left…I got cancer. I got cured, sort of, but it's ugly."

"Come on, we're brothers. Like I care how ugly you are. I was always the handsomest anyways." They both laughed. Wade admired his brother for taking away his fears so easily. For the first time, he wondered what he had missed by running away at 15. He took a breath- and pulled his mask off.

Cade examined his face slowly, showing no sign of revulsion. "Looks like the years were pretty hard on you." His voice sounded normal.

"Yeah, guess so. But," Wade said, realizing something, "you haven't hardly aged a day! What's your secret?"

His brother cocked his head to one side, considering. At last, he seemed to make a decision. Good thing, too. Wade was about ready to strangle him. "When I turned twenty, I started seriously looking for you. I had this feeling you were still alive. I left mom to search for you." Cade turned his head away, ashamed at having left the broken mother alone. "Some Canadian government officials heard about my questions and came to investigate me. When they learned I was your brother, they asked if I would come with them. Stupidly, I said yes. They, ah, forced me into the Weapon X Program, and I got my healing capabilities. Not unlike yours, I'm told," he finished, looking up.

Wade felt his eyes go wide. "You were in Weapon X? No way,"

"Yeah. While I was there, I learned that you had gone through it, but nobody would tell me where you were now. After I escaped those freaks, I went looking for you again. As the years passed, though, I gave up hope…"

Wade sat back, taking it all in. "Wow. So you never found out I was Deadpool, huh?" Cade had a blank look on his face. "You don't know who Deadpool is? That's just sad."

"Its been so long since I've seen you," said Cade, clearly following a different train of thought. "Tell me about yourself."

"Hmm. Well I'm a masked mercenary called Deadpool (whom everyone has heard about but you) AKA he Merc with a Mouth. I like cool cars, sleeping, killing, and chimichangas. Most people think I'm a crazy psycho mass murderer, and they might be right. You?"

"Well, I feel as if I don't know you at all. Anyways, I'm a PI, or Private Investigator. I joined the Marines when I was thirty, left when I was thirty-five. Was a cop for a while. I like silent movies (like from when we were kids), puzzles, Orson Scott Card (a really good author) and coffee."

"Huh. You sound old and boring. Oh hey! I forgot to tell you about my club…

They talked for a while, and yes, Cade did agree to become Deadpool #9 (Remember, Nemesis never joined.)

**Huh. This turned out a little more serious than I'd hoped. Well, I'll make amends in the next- and last- chapter.**

**Hey, PS. If anybody wants to take any of the characters I've made up (Raider, Junior, Chip, Redeye, Pretty Boy, Mercenary, Nemesis, Tade, and Cade), and give them some more background or continue their stories—go for it! Just please tell me the name of the fic!**

**PPS Please, please tell me what you think! **


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